Downhearted Symphony
by Sasukeluva 4eva
Summary: Abuse. That was all Haruno Sakura was familiar with. And the only thing that kept her alive was her talent with conveying emotion through music. So what happens when she is offered an opportunity that not only protects her, but allows her to FEEL too? R


**a/n: Another plot bunny has hit me; deal with it.**

**NOTE: I will have various playlists going on throughout this fic, so please do be diligent and play them as I list them; it will be a necessary part of this story, so please do try to follow this. (:**

**Disclaimer: IDNON, BIDHTOS! That is all.**

**Dedication: To all of my awesome reviewers; you make writing easy and enjoyable, so thanks! (:**

* * *

_Summary (full): Haruno Sakura has always had an ear for music, even if she wasn't particularly talented like everyone else she knew; this talent was noticed by Uchiha Mikoto, a famous singer that wished to get back into the business. _

_So with Sakura's expertise, the female monarch of the most renowned family of musical stars officially began her debut, using the pinkette's astounding ability to convey emotion through instruments as her medium to fast success. _

_Along the way, Sakura happens to meet the worldwide sensation Uchiha Sasuke, son of her new employer, and is charged with the extra responsibility of aiding him in his musical career also; with her hands full of each member of the Uchiha family, how will Sakura cope with the accumulating feelings she starts to develop for the raven haired enigma?_

* * *

**_S_**a_s_**u**k_e_**_l_**u_v_**a _4_**e_v_**a **p_r_**_e_**s_e_**n**t_s_**;**

_**Downhearted Symphony**_

_Sasuke x Sakura AU Lemon Fanfic_

* * *

Chapter 1

Despondent Sorrow

* * *

"That girl is late! I wonder why it is we keep asking her to come back here, if she is so tardy as to always miss her allotted appointment slot by _three and a half hours_! My word, I swear that if she doesn't arrive within the next _minute_, I'm cancelling her rendezvous and all future—"

"I am _so_ sorry, Takanikawa-san! My tou-san wouldn't let me leave the house, so I had to slip out through my window; then I went to catch the bus, but I missed the last one by four minutes, so then I had to run to the subway, which was closed early for private reasons, so then I had to catch a taxi, but there was a traffic jam, so by the time I managed to arrive, it was already this late! I am beyond sorry! Please forgive me and my lateness!"

An exhausted, dishevelled young woman with pink hair bowed profusely, her breathing ragged and laboured as she tried to regain the oxygen she had lost from running the last three miles to the large building complex that was Namikaze Music Corporation, and from the rather large speech she deemed an explanation that she had just sputtered; God did she hate her life.

Takanikawa looked less than pleased, but excused her for the fact that he understood vaguely the situation with her family; her father was an abusive drunkard that frequently beat her within an inch of her life, whilst she had no one to turn to for help, comfort or solace—she was all alone with a man that could very well do away with her without so much as breaking a sweat over it.

He would feel no remorse for the girl that he didn't even recognise as a 'daughter'; she was just the same as her mother.

A traitorous whore that had deserved the disastrous death she had been handed.

That was all she was worth to him after he had caught her cheating on him.

So from there, he had tagged that slut's daughter as one and the same, and would do anything within his physical capabilities to a) make her life a living hell, b) to do to her what he could not have to his now deceased _'wife'_, and c) make sure that she never leaves him for a man.

Well, at least that was Takanikawa's concept of the picture; he had never been all that good at reading people, after all.

"Sakura, with all due respect, I find it hard to believe that you're still able to make it here at all, now that your father knows the intention behind leaving in the first place; after all, it does relate to what your mother did previously—"

Takanikawa visibly cringed when he noted Sakura going rigid at the mention of her dead ka-san, his fathomless ebony eyes scrutinizing her every movement as he continued to speak, more direct than anything else.

"Look... Maybe it would be best if you discontinued coming here."

When her dull sea-green eyes widened and convulsed almost painfully in her skull, the older man elaborated on his point.

"I'm not at all implying that you have no talent, because believe me, you do, more so than anyone I have ever met; and although it would be a true shame to let you go, it's a matter of your safety. I can't simply stand by and watch a minor of sixteen being beaten by her abusive father and not do anything about it; especially if they are valued by myself and the company. Listen, Sakura, you are _far_ too young to be exposed to the world of music, yet at the same time, _far_ too talented to be simply ignored; that is why, if you wish it, I shall have you immediately set up for a contract the minute you turn eighteen. That way, you'll be an official adult, and can freely move around without the hassle of sneaking out all the time. I know that this is upsetting, but it can't be helped; I value you and your safety above all else, and I'll be damned if something bad happens to you over these secret meetings. Even using tactile discretion hasn't worked; your tou-san figures it out every time."

Takanikawa stated blandly, his facial expression showing utter distaste and contempt on the subject matter of her father; wait, the topic they were discussing in general was reason enough for him to be feeling sour and rather bitter—resentment for the pinkette's father was the most recognisable emotion embedded in his aged features, however.

He truly hated that man's guts, for everything that he had done to the poor, emotionally repressed female; her tastes in music only testified that as fact.

Speaking of...

"But onto the reason why you are here, love. Do you have your latest CD here with you?"

When the rosette simply nodded meekly, a distraught expression flitting across her pretty features (the bruises of her latest beating were still brandish against her taut, pallid skin), Takanikawa held out an outstretched hand, awaiting her latest disc; rummaging almost chaotically through the contents of her handbag (a gift from her aunty for her birthday), Sakura finally produced a transparent CD case, the burned compact disc glittering faintly in the warm orange rays that were emitted from the evening's sunset.

With a shaky hand, Sakura handed the record of her latest instrumentals to the older man, said elder taking it with much confidence and strength, almost reassuring Sakura that nothing bad was going to happen to her for it; with that, Takanikawa strode toward the large setup only a few feet away (it was an entire music system, that was used as both a recording station, as well as serving as a means of listening to an artists' work), opening the CD port before inserting the disc into the drive and waited for it to load.

When the numbers flashed with a neon-blue hue on the display screen, Takanikawa hit the 'play' button, where the soft opening hum of violins, a harp and Japanese cellos resounded in the eerily quiet room.

_**(Play 'Utsusemi' [Naruto Shippuden OST] here)**_

Sakura sat pensively in her chair, stiff as a board as she gouged her 'boss's' reaction to her latest piece; it was always hard to please this man, and she dearly hoped that he would like what she had done.

The rosette's mouth was pursed tensely as she watched Takanikawa slowly sink into the chair that the audio room provided him with, his figure seemingly relaxed as he listened intently to the notes, his back turned away from the pinkette; that was a worrying sign indeed.

Takanikawa had had to turn away from Sakura in order to obscure his tears from view; out of all of the sorrowful, heart-wrenching sonatas she had written and produced, this had to be the finest of them all; it was invoking every possible form of anguish within him, and he knew indeed that Sakura had called upon her most painful memories and used them to her advantage—he had never heard anything as eerily, tragically beautiful as this before in his life.

It was simply... _haunting_.

After the two minute/fifty-five second opus had ceased (with the chiming of soft bells), Takanikawa stood, turning so that his face was in view; he was not ashamed to show Sakura just how much it had affected him emotionally.

* * *

The pinkette was shocked; this harsh, cold, apathetic being was shedding _tears_ over her concerto?

That just didn't seem to register with Sakura at all.

"Out of all of the pieces I have heard, this would have to be my favourite of them all. An evocative, poignant opus that is everlasting and unforgettable. Beautifully executed, all of the emotions in sync with each and every instrument; it's hard to believe that you play them all yourself. Simply breathtaking, Sakura; _breathtaking_."

Takanikawa stated with a thick voice, the emotions clogging it and causing him to come off sounding raspy and raw; the rosette began tearing up herself at the compliment he had paid her, before she bowed frantically, her tears spilling ever so slightly before drying once again—she would not allow herself to cry over something so blatantly mediocre (_it wasn't mediocre, not to her_).

After another hour of discussion, it was decided that she would continue to meet with him, so long as she told him if her father had hurt her (he had to threaten her with the police in order for her to begrudgingly agree to his request, although he wished that he could inform the authorities anyways) in any way, shape or form, before she politely excused herself; it was getting late, and her tou-san was sure to have noticed her absence by now.

* * *

Takanikawa sat in silence as he replayed the concerto that she had entitled 'Utsusemi' (meaning 'cicada shell'); how fitting it was for a young teenager barely out of pubescence who was barely alive inside anymore to name her work after her current emotional state—she was the 'shell of a former being'.

How else could her lack of humanity be measured?

Surely not through words; she needed her music in order to communicate her true heartbreaking conflict, her inner turmoil; she needed it to _survive_.

And that was what tore away at Takanikawa's heart, even as the moon made its full peak from behind misted clouds.

* * *

It was happening again...

He was beating her...

And she could do nothing...

This was her pain...

Her constant state of despair...

She could not fight back...

Never fight back...

.

..

...

...

..

.

This was her despondent sorrow.

The very thing that hollowed her out...

Made her numb...

The very thing that made her story, her music, so agonising, tragic...

The very thing that had resulted in her calling herself after the shell of a cicada...

She was _nothing_.

And the sad thing was?

_She knew it._

* * *

**a/n: End of Chapter 1; Despondent Sorrow! **

**Hope you guys enjoyed this! **

**And I **_**know**_** I said no more stories, but I'm doing so anyways! **

**But my other note still stands; I WILL NOT BE UPDATING ON 'HHS' OR ANY OF MY OTHER STORIES.  
**

**So, what'd you think? o.O  
**

**Please review! (:  
**

**Until next time then!  
**

**Ja ne! x)**

***-Sasukeluva 4eva out-***


End file.
